There is no place for foreigners in Japan. They're all barbarians.
If for the average Russian, the name of the Japanese port city Shimoda says little, then any resident there will tell you a dramatic story associated with the first American consul on Japanese soil Townsend Harris and beautiful Okichi. At one time, the Land of the Rising Sun was isolated, and strangers were not allowed to enter its confines. But in the nineteenth century, near Shimoda, “black ships” with star-striped flags were anchored, pursuing good goals: to open new trade routes, sow the seeds of democracy and in general, to teach these backward natives to live like human beings. Consul Harris was placed in a separate house, where he was served by a 17-year-old geisha named Okichi – generally speaking, she was supposed to look after the American and report on his actions, but you can’t tell your heart, so over time, Harris and Okichi did not have the same feelings that are characteristic of the master and servant. This story is only a legend, but it was inspired by Houston, creating his film.
Harris is dedicated to a very original monument - an old tree, which is called the Tree of the Killed Cow. It was under him that the cow had to be slaughtered specifically for the guest - he had to eat the usual meat food, but for the local Buddhist population this act seemed so barbaric that they rushed to hide their animals: who knows what else this strange man, far from civilization, would want to taste! And a little further away is the Hofukuji temple, where Okichi things are stored - now it is a kind of museum.
It’s hard to imagine a more authentic American cinematographer than John Huston, but film after film is marveled at how he can tactfully and mercilessly speak on uncomfortable topics. A brutal confrontation between non-Native Americans and centuries-old Indians? Please, "Unforgiven." But if you want to see a real clash of categorically different civilizations, then you should definitely pay attention to “Barbarian and geisha”, because here this topic is as bare as possible, although Houston – again this amazing correctness of it – speaks about it without bile and malice. True, sometimes with a share of tooth soreness, but let’s be honest: his pins prick both with equal force.
There has been no war in our country for two hundred years. How many times have you fought in the West?
- Lots. But in some of these wars, people fought for freedom.
- You're talking about freedom, but weren't your ships going to the African shores, returning with black slaves?
At the same time, when it comes to the matter, the heroes show themselves on the other, more noble side: Harris bravely fights the cholera epidemic, and Tamura shows mercy and behaves like a true samurai. Let their speeches sometimes pompous and a bit pathetic (like, say, a great monologue about neighbors, uttered at a reception in the palace), but actions speak about people more than politically verified reports.
All things have an underside - both the story of the interpenetration of cultures and the filming process. Despite the bright Japanese flavor (the picture begins with a colorful holiday and hundreds of burning lanterns on the water), the director initially saw it quite different: the picture and narrative should be as “oriental” as possible. But the studio worked so hard on the tape that Houston urged to remove his name from the list of those involved in “The Barbarian and the Geisha”. And even with John Wayne constantly there were conflicts, sometimes ending in a sadly predictable muzzle. Through thick thorns I had to pull through, but the more valuable the result!
With all the disappointment experienced by the author, the film is colorful, Easternly subtle, and this is not to mention that it raises a difficult topic. Of course, it would be really interesting to look at a version of “Barbarian” that would fully meet Houston’s expectations, but the film, licked by the studio, still did not lose the imprint of his talent.
